Calm Before The Storm
by iwilltry-tocarryon
Summary: One-shot that starts after 1x10. Instead of everyone making it out, Charlie gets captured by Monroe's men and interrogated before being set free
1. Interrogations

_One-shot post 1x10, Monroe captures Charlie after the escape goes south in order to find out Miles' whereabouts so he could finish what they started. When the interrogation goes south, Monroe lets her go, but not without a fight. Based off a tumblr sentence prompt (could possibly add to this, at least one more chapter, but I want to finish some other fics first)._

"Sir, permission to speak freely," Captain Jeremy Baker tiptoed around the elephant in the room. General Monroe had said, countless times, that he was always free to speak his mind, but still he felt the need to ask every time. Monroe was a man who often asked for the truth when he wasn't prepared for it.

Sighing, Monroe tipped the rest of the remaining whiskey in his crystal tumbler into his mouth, swallowing before he nodded tersely.

"Sir, I don't know what else can be done without permanently hurting the girl. Your methods haven't been working, I think we need to go in a different direction."

**The interrogation was going nowhere.** Charlotte Matheson had been in his custody since the jailbreak of her brother and mother, which didn't go as planned. That was also the day that his former best friend and brother, showed up, prepared to shoot him, and this time for good.

Miles danced around the thought of killing Bass before, but was never quite able to bring himself to pull the trigger. This time though, it felt different, Bass could see a look in his eyes that wasn't there previously. This look was one Bass had never seen before, a miracle because Bass knew Miles better than he knew himself, but nevertheless chilled him to the bone. He never anticipated a day when Miles would not only seriously consider killing him, but actually be willing to go through with it, had it not been for others showing up.

What should've angered Bass only filled him with sorrow. There was a time when he thought he had nothing to live for, when he had lost everything, but the one thing he always had was Miles. Miles always had his back from the time they were children, and Bass had his, but today was different. And with that thought, Bass could feel the anger brewing, starting at the tip of his toes, all the way up to the very top of his head. It was a warm, tingly sensation, not unlike the feel of alcohol settling in, but where alcohol made you feel warm and secure, anger ignited your bones until they were drenched in a blazing fire that would never be quenched.

He had grown so quiet Baker feared he overstepped his boundaries again, internally cursing himself for always listening to Bass when he knew he didn't really want the truth, not if it disagreed with his plan.

Buttoning the first two buttons on his uniform, Bass ran his hands along the crinkles in the suit, standing up, "I appreciate your honest criticism Jeremy, you've always been a good friend to me."

His breath hitched as Bass cupped his shoulder, advancing to the door. Only when Bass fully shut the door behind him did Jeremy release the breath he was holding onto for dear life, in hopes that it wouldn't be his last.

Bass couldn't help but frown as he brushed past Jeremy and saw the look of fear in his eyes. Sure it made Bass feel powerful at times, but when he saw those fleeting looks from people he considered to be friends, he cringed. Could he really have been that bad of a leader that people feared for their life for criticizing what obviously wasn't working?

The answer to that question simply, was yes; he was that bad, but Bass didn't have time to think about his leadership abilities right now. He had a country to run since Miles left him holding the bag while he went out and did…whatever the hell he did. Bass couldn't just walk away and leave, then who would keep everything up and running?

Unbolting the door leading to the holding cell, Bass' breath left his lungs immediately when he took in the sight of Charlie's head, slumping over in the chair in apparent defeat. When Jeremy said 'permanently hurting,' he didn't know that meant they were already causing physical damage to her tanned, silky, seemingly unmarked skin. Bass was an idiot to think that assigning Strausser to the job would've resulted in anything other than bodily torture, but at the moment Bass hadn't been thinking, he was too caught up in finding Miles.

Will Strausser, meticulously cleaning the blood residue from his knife, looked up at Monroe with a gleam in his eye, "a few more hours with me and she'll be singing like a songbird, although there are other methods that would get us results faster…Sir." It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was offering as a means of torture.

Miles taught Charlie well, that much was obvious. The only way to make her talk was to strip her of her safety, that being the last remaining bit of innocence she had left. Bass couldn't do that though, he wouldn't do that, and he sure as hell wouldn't let Strausser lay a damn hand on her, even if that meant he would never figure out where Miles was. Nothing was worth compromising Charlie.

Maybe it was because she reminded Bass so much of Miles. She was headstrong, determined, fierce, loyal, and dedicated to her family, but the more he thought about all the qualities she possessed, the more he realized she wasn't like Miles at all…she was like him. Charlotte Matheson was a younger, more innocent version of himself. The person he used to be before life dealt him with the world's shittiest hand.

Upon hearing his voice her body shook, a knee jerk reaction to his presence. There was something about him, other than him being an evil madman, that made Charlie uneasy, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She let her palms, calloused, cut, bruised, and covered in scars, fall to her side, hanging there like a limp ragdoll. Her breathing, the only indication of her heart still beating, had slowed, due to the loss of blood, to an almost nonexistent beat.

Strausser was not his favorite person, mostly because he didn't trust him remotely; in fact, the only reason he kept him around in the first place was because he knew how to get a job done. He never argued and never let his emotions or morals get in the way, though Bass suspected it had to do with the fact that he possessed neither of those things. That should've been his first clue something was wrong with that man. What kind of man looks downright giddy to interrogate someone and suggests going above and beyond normal means of questioning.

Bass, kicking his own ass for leaving her with Strausser in the first place, turned to him, "thank you, that will be all for now. I'm taking over."

Charlie froze in her hunched over position, due partially to the fact that she was too exhausted to move, and partially because those words raised a red flag in her mind.

Monroe was taking over, which could either be a good thing, or a disastrous thing, and Charlie wasn't confident which it would be. One thing she was sure of, she would rather get interrogated by Monroe than that sadistic, creepy, filthy Strausser she had the unfortunate experience of being left alone with.

Stunned into a few seconds of silence, Strausser forgot about cleaning his weapon for the moment to furrow his brows, "if this is about how long it's taking I apologize, though I did just offer up a solution on how to fix that predicament."

Shaking his head Bass would not back down, "this has nothing to do with the time it's taking, I've just come to the conclusion that I will take over from now…unless of course you have a problem with that?"

Raising his brows, Bass silently dared Strausser to speak out against him, then Bass would be able to justify killing him or exiling him, not that he needed a reason for doing so. He was the president of the Republic, he could feasibly do whatever he wanted, but it looked better on him if there was a just cause for his actions.

He should've known better. Strausser was overzealous and opinionated, but he wasn't suicidal or stupid. He knew that publicly opposing what Bass said would not result in anything favorable for him, so he kept his mouth shut, peering down at Charlie's almost lifeless form before snapping the heels of his boots together and exiting the cell door.

Turning towards the guards posted outside Charlie's door, with a wave of his hand he motioned for them to excuse themselves. Once the door was shut behind them Bass went hesitantly towards Charlie, "you can sit up now Charlotte, I sent Strausser away."

Wheezing, she kept her chin tucked down, "maybe I don't want to look at you either, ever thought of that?"

Sighing, Bass pinched the bridge of his nose, "Charlotte I'm trying to be nice here—"

"Nice?!" Her head snapped up so fast that black dots started to surround her vision, but she didn't care, "You're trying to be nice? Well I'd sure hate to see you be mean if your idea of nice is tying me to a chair and letting that disgusting asshole carve into my skin like he was cutting flesh off an animal."

Breathing ragged, chest heaving up and down as anger washed over her body in persistent tsunami waves, Bass could finally get a good look at the injuries caused by the 'disgusting asshole,' as she rightly put it.

There were cuts all over her face, some as deep as canyons, others shallow like streams or creeks. All of them sent a pang right to Bass' heart, cutting him like knives. Yes he was a ruler, and he had done terrible things, just like what Strausser had done to Charlie, but for some reason this affected him more than all of that. She was Miles' niece and, as much as he tried to hate Miles right now, he couldn't help but think about that.

His eyes softened as he took in the cut on her plump lip, sticking out more than when he first saw her due to the swelling. Even as his gaze softened, Charlie's never did. That fire he saw burning wildly in her eyes didn't seem to be tapering off in the least bit.

Reaching forward, he internally cringed when she flinched away from him as he began untying the rope, currently cutting off her circulation and making rings around her wrists and ankles no doubt.

This whole time she said nothing else, in fear that if she did, it would remind him of his goal and deter him from letting her go. She hated him and wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but more than anything she wanted to get free from this place and go back to what was left of her family.

As soon as the rope sprang free and fell silently to the ground, she rubbed at her red wrists, rubbed raw from trying to wiggle away from Strausser as far as possible.

Bending down, Bass stuck his hands out with the intention of releasing her ankles, but he couldn't resist looking up at her one more time. While she said nothing verbally, her face said it all. She was confused as to why he was doing this, and a little afraid that it was the calm before the storm. Bass didn't know which hurt worse, to know she thought he was capable of causing more damage to her, or to see the look of fear. A look he never wanted to see again in her eyes as long as he lived.

Slowly, as though not to spook her, he reached up with one hand, leaving the other on her knee securely, and caressed the side of her face. Lightly ghosting over the cuts and bruises now starting to show on her delicate skin. He was content when she didn't flinch away this time in fear; instead she remained stoic and frozen in place. Her breathing and heart rate became so quiet that his hand wandered down to the pulse point on her neck, checking to make sure she was indeed still breathing. He could feel the chill bumps rising on her skin everywhere his fingers went.

After a few moments, Bass smiled to himself when Charlie let out an audibly breath and relaxed just a hair, which was enough to encourage Bass to speak again, "I'm sorry Charlotte."

The apology was so low, he wasn't quite sure he said it until he got a glimpse of her stunned face, mouth parted in surprise as her eyes went wide. Obviously that was the last thing she expected to hear come out of his mouth.

Recovering quickly from her momentary lapse, a bitter laugh escaped her scratchy, dry throat, "well since you're sorry that just fixes everything now doesn't it?"

His fingers instantly stilled on her face as his jaw clenched. What was he supposed to say to that? He knew that saying sorry wasn't going to fix everything, hell he wasn't even sure it was going to fix anything, but didn't that at least show some sign he was trying. He fucked up…big time, but he was trying to make things better right here and now, at least as far as Charlie was concerned.

Focusing on untangling the rope around her ankles, he went back to their moments of silence, figuring that was the best way to avoid the argument sure to come from their conversation. Charlie was passionate, stubborn, and didn't give two shits about his feelings. Bass was short tempered, defensive, and quick to act before thinking. He was going to say they were like oil and water, no matter how you shook it, they would never truly be unified. But it was more accurate to say she was like water, seemingly innocent by itself but destructive once you added it to his grease fire.

Free from all ropes, Bass stood up and moved back a few paces, waiting on her to stand up and leave. He was surprised, to say the least, when she just sat there dumbfounded and looking at him.

Finally he snapped, "this isn't some damn trap Charlotte, I'm letting you go…so go," he barked out at her.

She didn't even recoil when he raised his voice and threw his arm out to showcase the door she could let hit her on the ass on the way out. For whatever reason, as soon as he finished untying her, she didn't think it was a trap, but she also didn't know what to think. That's the real reason why she sat there, that and the fact she wasn't sure she would be able to get up.

Sure enough as soon as she stood, she winced in pain and prepared for her knees to thud against the concrete floor when her legs suddenly gave out. Shutting her eyes tight, she waited for a feeling that never came. Warm, firm hands enclosing her and holding her up replaced it.

Opening her eyes, she met with a concerned Bass, who appeared to be silently beating himself up for pushing her so hard, "you're in no shape to go anywhere."

The fright flashing across her eyes caused Bass to amend his former statement, "you don't have to stay, but you'll be no use to Miles if you end up dead before you make it back. You can stay here a few hours, days, whatever, as long as you eat and get cleaned up."

When she didn't look convinced he dropped his voice, whispering face inches from hers, "you have my word Charlotte, and if anything, I always keep my promises."

Nodding she tried saying something, find her throat to be parched, she cleared it and started over, "only for a few hours, then I want to leave…I want to go home."

Dropping her head with the last statement, Bass smiled at the crown of her hair, moving to sling her arm over his shoulders as his other arm cupped gently around her side, "of course Charlotte."


	2. Dirty Little Secret

Bypassing guest rooms set up, and Miles' old room, he led Charlie straight into his room, connected to his office.

For awhile the rooms were located on almost opposite ends, but once power started to consume his every thought, he took over the room right beside his office.

None of the guards said anything as he directed her into his room, firmly closing the door behind them. Smart move, Bass was not in the mood for judgmental thoughts or so called opinions. Plus one wrong statement about Charlie and he wouldn't be responsible for the actions that ensued.

Her eyes skirted from the bed to the couch in his office, facing the fireplace. Every time she looked at the bed, there was a hint of apprehension in her eyes, so Bass opted for the couch instead, regardless of the fact that it wasn't the most comfortable thing. Not like his bed.

Gently helping her sit down, Bass pulled the blanket draped on the arm rest down to cover her bottom half, "I'll send for some tea and someone to come look at your wounds."

She scoffed, "tea? At a time like this…don't you have anything, I don't know, stronger?"

Bass chuckled, he should've known, no niece of Miles would ever settle for something as meaningless as tea. He was quite confident she was able to hold her liquor if she were anything like Miles, he only offered her tea because he wasn't sure what she preferred.

Plus Bass couldn't get over little Charlotte Matheson. In his eyes, he was seeing her as a child, spinning around in circles until she tripped over her dress and broke Rachel's favorite vase. Of course at the time it had been funny, to everyone except Rachel, she always did love things more than she loved people.

He moved to uncover a bottle of whiskey stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk, smirking when Charlie glanced at him from over her shoulder with a small, tired smile.

Generously dishing out an amount to her in a crystal tumbler, mirroring the one he was drinking out of earlier, he held it out towards her until she grasped it in her own hand.

At first she swished the contents around, watching the glow of the fire reflecting off the brown amber in the cup, when suddenly she downed it all in one gulp.

Bass was still a man after all, and watching her right now, he wasn't seeing a little girl. He was seeing a woman; a strong woman who had been through a lot, but had neither lost her faith nor backed down when the going got tough.

He admired those qualities in her because that's the area Miles lacked. When things turned into a shit show, he wiped his hands and went and hid. Charlie was different.

Uncomfortably clearing his throat, he shoved his hands in his pockets, "help yourself to more, I'll go get someone to take a look at you."

"I don't want someone to check me out."

Bass turned around, "you're hurt and you need to get cleaned up. That was one of the conditions. You stay and get bandaged up so you can go on your merry way to grandmother's house."

She shook her head in determination, "I don't want any more of _your _people looking at me tonight or touching me. I've had enough of that to last forever."

Gritting his teeth, he tried very hard not to lose his temper with this stubborn girl slouched over on the couch before him, "what do you suppose then Charlotte. Either I go find some-damn-body to look at you…or I'll do it myself," when her eyes grew as wide as saucers he threw his hands up, "your choice."

"Some choice that is," she muttered to herself. That was like telling someone they could choose to die by gun or by knife, either way you swing it, it still ended in death. Granted this wasn't as extreme as death, but to Charlie, it might as well have been.

She remained stoic and quiet, hoping that he would just forget about it after a few minutes. It was apparent he was going to do no such thing when he began tapping his foot against the floor in an overdramatic show of agitation.

Finally, when she had enough of the stupid sound he was making, she snapped, "alright fine."

Bass smugly grinned to himself and turned to walk away, but not before he heard her voice again, "you can do it."

Time stood still for at least 10 seconds while Bass just stood there, motionless with his back turned to her. His plan backfired, he only offered himself as a solution because he knew there was no way in hell she would agree. Well, hell just froze over apparently.

Shakily he slowly pivoted around to face her once more, thanking god when he saw she was looking down this time, "alright then."

Curtly he went to the door and snapped at one of the guards to bring him some more alcohol and bandages to wrap her cuts in.

Within moments the man had returned like the good carrier pigeon he was. Bass took the supplies out of his hands, slamming the door shout, and went back to where Charlie was sitting, eyes closed, head resting against the back of the couch.

The glass was teetering on the edge of the worn out couch as she silently dozed off. Removing it from her hand, he sat it down beside of him on the table loudly, so as to alert her he was ready to begin.

Scowling she sat up straight, not moving any closer to him as he sat perched on the edge of the table, "Charlotte it's going to be real difficult for me to assess your wounds if you're too far away. Wouldn't you agree?"

Childishly she said nothing, however she did comply and come the slightest bit forward, turning her chin upward in defiance.

Softly he took her chin in between his fingers turning her face towards the glow of the fire to get a better look at it. While probing, he said nothing. Busing himself with some pieces of torn cloth, he dabbed it in alcohol before addressing her again, "this is going to sting a little bit, so you might want to brace yourself."

"Yes I understand pain, I just spent hours in a dungeon as someone's own personal knife sharpener."

As soon as she sarcastically retorted, Bass no longer cared. He tried to be nice and warn her, but if she was going to behave immaturely towards him, then so be it.

Roughly, he pressed the cloth into her wounds. Upon hearing her wince in pain, he himself grimace. He always said one thing to himself, but instantly changed his mind when he saw the look of pain contorting across her face.

The next time he did it more gently, and so on with every cut on her face until he was confident he got them all. The larger ones on her forearm hurt the most he could tell by the way her right hand flexed and gripped onto the couch for support.

Blowing softly on the cut, drying the alcohol, he made the mistake of looking up into her icy blue eyes that became more pronounced as she recovered. If he thought she looked passionate and determined before, now she looked unstoppable.

Curiously all she did the whole time, in between winching and holding her breath, was watch him from underneath her lashes. She didn't tug her arm away in repulsion when his warm breath invaded the gaping slash on her arm, which she knew she should've done. She just sat there as he stroked alongside the cut with his thumb.

Breaking his trance, he unwound the bandage, securely wrapping it around her forearm, "you can take if off before you get to Miles."

"Why so he won't know your dirty little secret and how you treated me? I don't think he would ever consider coming back to this…but especially not after how you let creepy jackass there take the reigns when the only person less mentally stable than you, would be him."

Tossing her arm back on her lap, he stood up abruptly, "no because your wounds should be healed by then. Quite frankly, I've listened to you all night degrade me and belittle be about things you know nothing about, things that happened before you were even born. I won't listen to it anymore. I'd tread lightly Charlotte if I were you."

"Why, how much worse could things get?"

"Never ask if things could get any worse because 9 times out of 10, they do."

"Whatever," she grumbled, letting the blanket fall on the ground as she stood up, "I'm better now so I'm going. That is, unless there's some other reason you'd like to think of in order to hold me prisoner."

He hated that term and that word, coming from Charlie, he knew that was a dig at keeping Rachel locked up for all those years.

Charlie snorted, "of course I don't blame you," his ears perked up at that statement but then his face fell, "how else would you get people to stay here with you. Other than by force."

Bass was fuming with anger, but when he saw her eyes dart to his bed, then back to him quickly as though nothing happened, he smirked, "I can assure you Charlotte I've never had to force any of my bed companions."

"That's not what I said," she all but sputtered out, flustered.

Bass kinked one eyebrow up, "it may not have been what you said, but it's what you meant, what you were thinking."

She said nothing, mostly because she had no good comeback. He had obviously seen her, non-too stealthily, looking to the unmade bed. She was caught red handed with her hand in the cookie jar.

When she turned back to meet his gaze, her nose brushed up against hers, causing her to gasp and step back, "I may be many things Charlotte, most of them not good things, but I would never force myself on any woman. Why would I have to throw at them, what they're begging for?"

A snort escaped her before she could reel it in, at that his eyes darkened, not in anger, but in lust.

He stepped forward, raising his fingers to trail down the side of her face, taking a strand of hair in between his fingers, inhaling her scent. He continued his path until his fingers stoked the side of her hip where her shirt had ridden up. Rubbing his thumb across her hipbone, he smiled when her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth parted open.

Without warning, he pressed an open mouth kiss on the corners of her lips, smirking when she shuddered and let out a shaky breath. Pulling back, he abruptly let go of her and stepped back until there were at least two feet between them, "run along Charlotte, I've proven my point."

He went around, back towards his desk while Charlie tried to get control of herself.

Once she had finally calmed her nerves she called out, "what point, that you could seduce me? Good job, like that's so hard, I'm a woman, and newsflash, we enjoy sex just as much as you do. If you really were trying to prove a point you would've fucked me," she boldly states.

Bass bitterly laughed, "you're just a child Charlotte, now leave."

Shaking her head once again, she stalked towards him, like a lioness stalking a prey, "you didn't treat me like a child before when you were touching me. I'm willing to bet my life that you don't see me as a kid, you feel bad that you don't because you should, but that doesn't change the fact that you see me as a woman."

"A troublesome, loud mouthed, opinionated, stubborn, nuisance, and did I mention troublesome woman?"

When she was almost toe-to-toe with him she smirked darkly. This was so unlike her, so out of character, but for a moment she just wanted to forget who she was, and who he was. She was just a woman, and he was just a man…that and the alcohol had worked its way into her brain, killing all warning signals of this being a bad idea.

Bass obviously didn't have those warning signals, sober or otherwise, because he reached out and crushed his lips to hers, murmuring against them, "you're going to be the death of me, but what a sweet death it would be."

She had no time to register what he was saying before his mouth was adamantly pressed against hers, shoving past her lips to forcefully explore the caverns of her mouth with his tongue.

Pushing aside all rational thoughts, she let Bass take control as he carried her to the bed, laying her tenderly on the bed, avoiding her wounds. The way he worshipped her body, the warm and tender way he ran his fingertips along her body, discarding her clothes was a vast difference from earlier. For a strong, hard man, he was a compassionate, affectionate lover.

Dark spots swirled in Charlie's vision as she reached her first orgasm of the night by Bass' magic fingers. She lost count how many times that night she was sent over the edge by Bass. By his hands, his tongue, until finally his dick, even larger and more beautiful than she could've imagined.

They literally fucked themselves into a dead sleep. Charlie was the first one to wake, Bass' arm draped across her bare midriff. Picking it up carefully, she laid his arm back down, trying to quietly get the hell out of there before she had time to think anymore about what happened.

Gathering her clothes, she slipped them on, and as soon as she was fully clothed, made a beeline for the door. Neither of the guards looked up at her when she exited, which she was thankful for, and no one tried to stop her.

It was just as Bass said, she was free to leave and continue home to Miles who could never know about this incident that happened. She was just praying Bass would be able to repress it as easily.


End file.
